


Burns like the Sun

by Shazz92



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grace Kink, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 08:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shazz92/pseuds/Shazz92
Summary: Castiel and Crowley during Season 6 (The Search for Purgatory)





	Burns like the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a two or three part. Chapter One is mostly PG/M rated, depending on how much you read into it ;-)  
> Chapters 2/3 will contain explicit acts.  
> If you're not interested in he explicit stuff, Chapter One can be read like a one-shot.

Crowley was impressed, he had to admit it. Castiel, ‘Angel of the Lord’, was proving to be surprisingly adept at convincing the captured monsters to part with their valuable info. What impressed Crowley was that, when the time came to turn the little pressure into a crushing weight, Cas did not hesitate to use his heavenly abilities against the defenceless creatures. Of course, an Angel’s powers were most efficient against their exact opposites (demons and hellhounds), but it was still rather thrilling watching the Angel’s Grace tear through the flesh and minds of their prisoners while Crowley observed, entranced, from a relatively safe distance.

Their current captive, a Cynocephalus (a dog-headed man), lay strapped to Crowley’s least bloody (for the moment) table. Despite it being an Alpha, Crowley held little hope in its ability to give them any information regarding Purgatory; Cynocephali were hunters, not known for being particularly interested in the afterlife, be it their own or otherwise. Still, a small chance is still a chance. Even though it seemed to understand Crowley, it refused to respond in anything except its own language - one even Crowley had never heard before – most of which seemed like stylised barks and growls. Castiel was translating, but Crowley was sure the Angel was altering some phrases; some barks seemed a little too sharp to be anything but a curse word, yet Cas didn’t repeat them.

“Come now, Scooby,” Crowley said, “There aren’t many of your species left, is there? How many tribes are left in America’s mountains? Six? Seven?”

The Cyno remained quiet, watching Crowley’s every move as the demon paced around him.

“And considering the technology available now,” Crowley continued, “do you really think your people will be able to remain undetected for much longer?”

‘Scooby’ gave a few low barks, Castiel translating them as: _“We are known.”_

“By very few. That will not last. Soon enough, modern humanity will find you. You will be outnumbered and out-gunned. As fierce as your people are, you cannot beat drones and bombs with arrows and swords.” Crowley liked to think he sounded compassionate. “But I doubt they’d kill you all. Some they would save in the name of ‘science’. Maybe put them in zoos.”

_“What is your point?”_

“I can help keep you hidden. _If_ you cooperate and tell me what I need to know.”

_“You play the saviour, yet I am tied to a torture device.”_

“That’s more for my own safety, I assure you.”

‘Scooby’ glanced pointedly at Castiel, then back to Crowley. _“I do not think you need protection from me. An Angel and a demon. I am not an idiot. I know the odds of winning against you both.”_

“Are you saying you accept my offer?”

_“No. I do not. You are a demon, it’s in your nature to deceive. As to the Angel, I distrust him because he seems to be working with you.”_

“Well, there was no reason to make it about race, Scoobs, and I must admit, I am quite offended! I’ll have you know, I _always_ keep my deals. Also, I am no mere demon. I am the _King_ of Hell. But I see you have made your decision, so I shall have to get the information I need in a less civil – but much more fun – way. More fun for me, that is.”

Castiel let out a disappointed sigh, watching as Crowley carefully selected the first of many torture tools to use on the Cynocephalus.

Castiel didn’t like torturing the creatures. He hated the screams, the smell of blood and burning flesh and hair. He hated that some of these beings were completely innocent; tormented and killed just because there was a minute chance they knew something about Purgatory. He also knew that Crowley was only trying the ‘civil’ route to appease the Angel; the demon could be much more persuasive if he’d genuinely been interested in helping the Cynocephalus, yet he’d jumped straight into the torture after the first refusal.

After watching too many creatures die after hours of non-stop torture, Castiel had decided to step in if they didn’t surrender any information within an hour. Using his own Grace as a weapon would be more painful than any torture device Crowley could produce, yet it would leave the creatures physically unharmed (unless he chose to leave marks). Too much would eventually force the creature into a coma, but they usually submitted well before that happened. He didn’t enjoy doing it, but it was better than the alternative.

At least, he’d thought that until he saw the way Crowley stared at him while he worked. It made him uncomfortable, though he wasn’t certain why. It reminded him of the way Dean looked at pie.

Crowley was about to saw one of the Cynocephalus’ ears of with a blunt butter knife when Castiel pushed him to the side. Crowley’s initial flare of anger was swiftly replaced with glee (and arousal) when he realised what Cas was about to do. He grabbed a nearby stool, placed it at the foot of the table and sat eagerly upon it. In this position, he’d have the perfect view of both Angel and victim, as well as feel just the right amount of pain from the Grace. It was like sitting near a burning building; the heat almost overwhelming and yet the thrill and adrenaline was simply intoxicating. Crowley wouldn’t admit it, but he was becoming addicted to the feel of Cas’ Grace stinging his true form.

When the Cynocephalus howled, Crowley almost joined him, but in ecstasy instead of pain.

Castiel was focused on the creature before him. He could almost feel its resolve shattering. He focussed his Grace, sending a spear within millimetres of its soul’s core. If the table’s iron chains and leather belts hadn’t held the creature in place, it would have been writhing in agony. As it was, its scream reverberated through Cas’ skull. It would join many others that Cas would never be able to forget.

It only took 20 minutes before the Cynocephalus gave them something they could use. A name: Eleanor Visyak.

Knowing that was all they’d get from ‘Scooby’, Cas sent a burst of Grace throughout the creature’s body, effectively disintegrating him. It seemed to surprise and disappoint Crowley, as the demon let out a small gasp and a groan, but he recovered quickly.

“That was a job well done, Kitten,” the demon admitted, “I think it calls for a reward. For _both_ of us.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Crowley crossed his legs before responding. “I mean, I’d like to take you out for dinner. Maybe see a show.  You know, relax.”

“Neither of us need to eat, Crowley.”

“You’re missing the point, Featherhead. It’s a way to relax, to ease the mind after a stressful day.”

“I should be getting back to Heaven…”

“Heaven can wait a couple of hours, Darling. We’re business partners, are we not? I simply wish to cool off with someone who- who I trust.” Crowley smiled, seeming completely genuine.

That was not something Cas expected to hear. The demon trusted him? Or was he just saying that? Probably the latter. But, did it matter? Heaven was currently having a civil war, with Castiel leading the rebellion against an _archangel_ and his followers. He was tired. Not physically, but mentally. He could use a break. And so what if he spent time with a demon? It’d probably still be less damaging than listening to his own thoughts.

“Fine.” Cas agreed.

“Good,” Crowley’s smile melted into a smug grin, “Let me just change my pants, then we’ll head off.”

He winked and disappeared, leaving Castiel confused ( _W_ _hy  does he need to change his pants?_ ) but looking forward to some ‘relaxation’.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts and comments much appreciated. Also, please let me know of any spelling, grammatical or continuity errors as I don't have a beta reader.


End file.
